As We Fall is a MCU-centric RP board focusing on the events that come after those portrayed in Captain America: Civil War. A team divided, friends at odds with each other. Registration is a hot topic, but not yet enforced for the general public.

A baseball game. SHIELD had among the best intelligence gathering abilities in the country, perhaps she would even go as far as to say the world. But evidently they had some room to improve.

Clara was beyond frustrated with the fact that they hadn’t put more thought into how to reintroduce Steve Rogers to the twenty first century. They seriously couldn’t have chosen a game that happened after he had been put under the ice? It was borderline laughable. The mighty SHIELD. Taken down by a baseball game.

Her anger and frustration stemmed more from concern rather than just true anger and frustration. What that man had gone through was torturous enough even if he didn’t wake up in a completely different era. It was heartbreaking, how he had just been thrown head first into the deep end that was known as the Age of Technology with no warning and no way to prepare himself. Despite his less than stellar rousing to the new times, SHIELD was doing their best to try and help Rogers get as acclimated to the times as quickly as possible.

But sometimes trying to do things so fast wasn’t exactly for the best.

Which was perhaps where she came in. It had only been several days since the good Captain had woken up but she had figured that it wouldn’t hurt to simply introduce herself to the man. That and a fairly strong suggestion had been relayed to her from higher up she she quite literally couldn’t deny the opportunity. It had been a day since she received her orders, but ever since she received them, she had spent every free moment brushing up on her history, wanting to be as familiar as she could about the man she was about to introduce herself to.

With her heels clicking sharply and clearly against the smooth, hard floor, Clara’s mind was moving a mile a minute, trying to settle on the best way to introduce herself. First impressions really were everything, and Clara wasn’t exactly known for her stellar first impressions if they weren’t completely planned out by the minute. She didn’t want to come across as too blasé about everything, nor did she want to appear too eager about working with the National Hero. Just treat him like a regular person, geez Boudreaux. She held back the urge to wince at herself. She was thinking about this too much, too hard.

And suddenly she found herself at her destination. The gym wasn’t exactly the most familiar of places to her, not that it was necessarily her fault. She could deny the fact that she wasn’t the most fit person all she wanted, the truth was that for someone who considered going up a flight of stairs in three inch heels to be their daily exercise stepping to a gym was a borderline disconcerting thing to do. Especially with the sight she was welcomed by.

Just the man she was looking for was a ways away from her, completely immersed in his task of rhythmically striking a punching bag with such power that it hurt just to watch. Clara shuffled in her spot for a split second before clearing her throat. The brunette raised a hesitant hand in a half wave. ”Hi, uh excuse me, Captain Rogers? Sorry to bother you, but I was just wondering if you had a minute?”

It had only been a few days since he had lost practically everything. Everyone he had known was dead or well on their way. Even the legacy of Captain America was not what he had hoped it would be. They painted him as a symbol of perfection and goodness despite how inaccurate it was. It should have been clear as day that he had plenty of failures and a multitude of flaws. After all, if he was perfect, he would have been able to save Bucky from the train; he would have been able to save a lot of people.

He knew that he was still on Earth, but the world seemed like an entirely different place. It was almost like living on another planet. There had been color back in the forties, something people were occasionally surprised to learn for some reason. He had been able to see all of them (even red and green!) after Project: Rebirth, but now he was accosted by them every time he walked down the street. Bright lights, advertisements everywhere, fast living and everything was so damned expensive. He nearly had a heart attack the first time he had gone to buy groceries for himself in this time – not that he could get heart attacks any more. If he could, he supposed it would have been when he was informed of his predicament, not navigating the produce aisles of the supermarket.

In search of a distraction, Steve had ventured down to the gym to vent his frustrations on the punching bag. It was quickly becoming a habit. Rest constantly eluded him and despite what he said, it wasn’t because he had slumbered for a good sixty-seven years. Nightmares and insomnia plagued him something fierce, refusing to allow him an escape from the mess he had made for himself. However, the gym gave him a space to work through those feelings he had bottled up so tightly.

He barely took the time to wrap his hands before the punches started flying. Propelled by anger and fear, each strike was more forceful than the last as the veteran lost himself in the act of violence. It was only in moments like this, surrounded by silence and isolation, that the man allowed himself to fully surrender to his emotions.

The equipment made noises of protest as blow after blow hit its mark. Soon enough, the bag inevitably went flying across the room, spilling sand as it went. Supposedly, it had been reinforced for super-soldiers, but evidently such a claim was unfounded. With a sigh, Steve retrieved another bag and hung it to replace the one he had damaged.

He only had time to give a few punches that were not nearly as forceful as those that preceded them before a noise alerted him to the presence of someone behind him. With an air or resignation, he stopped the swinging bag, peering over his shoulder to let his attention came to rest on the unfamiliar brunette. Blond eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion as she began to speak, wondering what she needed. “Of course, ma’am,” he greeted with a curt nod as he stepped away from the bag and turned to face her. It was a miracle he managed to keep his internal sigh from reaching his voice, “What can I do for you?”Clara Boudreaux | Hope this is okay! Let me know if I need to change anything!